


Lay with me Amongst the Grapevine (the valet remix)

by letosatie



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, M/M, Master & Servant, mentions of attempted non-con, not really but be careful, sort of, x-men remix madness 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letosatie/pseuds/letosatie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Master Charles has a guest to stay at Westchester House when he's down from Oxford for summer.  His valet, Lehnsherr will keep his mouth shut, but he doesn't like it, he doesn't like it at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay with me Amongst the Grapevine (the valet remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kageillusionz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lay with Me Amongst the Grapevines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769479) by [kageillusionz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz). 



The Westchester house staff makes a space for Erik, professionals that they are, moving around him like a school of fish around a rock without pause, as if he is there every day instead of occasionally when Young Master Charles is down from Oxford. As valet, he can’t always sit down with them for meals, but there is always a plate left aside for him and Mrs Wilton always pops the kettle on if he wanders into the kitchen late for tea.

They press him for information on Charles’ guest, Mr Howlett, Erik having travelled with Charles and Howlett in the motor. Erik restricts himself to an indistinct, “Seems like a fine man,” although his skin had crawled and tingled unpleasantly when he first saw him.

The clock hand clicks over towards ten in the morning and Erik excuses himself, makes his way to Charles’ room for their daily battle for the King. As usual, it quickly deteriorates into an argument, today about the moral applications and necessary restrictions within nuclear science and the newly split atom. 

It isn’t common practise to have a valet at University, or at Charles’ tender age, but Erik and Charles grew up together, one upstairs and one down, and both remember with misery the terms apart when Charles was off at boarding school. Charles raged uselessly to his step father about the unfairness of someone with Erik’s intelligence being kept from an education. So valet he is, in public, and friend and study partner and chess opponent he is, in private. Lehnsherr in company; Erik when alone together.

Erik has run after Charles with his notebook, delivering it in exchange for a dazzling smile, so is in the dining room when Mr Howlett bullies Charles into a picnic at the lake. Erik’s teeth are audibly grinding, so loud that Charles strums his fingers secretly in Erik’s palm to comfort as they climb the stairs later. 

“He’s right, Erik. I should get out,” Charles tells him, as Erik helps him into more appropriate riding attire. Erik is proud; Charles is always turned out impeccably and Erik never lets his finger tips brush over the back of his strong neck while assisting him into his coat, or across his collar bone when he straightens his tie, no matter that the desire to do so drags on his will and twists in his groin. 

“Take care, Charles,” he says direly, as Charles leaves the room. He gets a tight, half smile in return.

Erik performs all his duties and then immerses himself in Charles’ books until tea time, where he sits straight backed and tight lipped surrounded by the speculating staff.  


Tess runs into the kitchen and breathlessly reports on the heightened blush and dishevelled shirt of the returning Young Master Charles. Erik sucks in a breath, and says with studied calm, “Sounds as if I’m required then.”

His blood is encouraging him to run, frantically, directly to Charles, but his upbringing and training and pride are informing his precise, slow gait. Erik’s jaw aches from the hours of worried clenching. He gains Charles’ room and lays out a fresh ensemble. Then he forces himself to stand upright and still, facing the door, all the while wondering how on earth he is managing to keep his lunch down. 

The door opens wildly, and Charles blusters in and closes it again. He sees Erik by the window and his usual implacable expression melts into upset. It hurts Erik to look at it. His hands flick awkwardly at his sides.

“Erik,” says Charles, and they both move together, Erik breaking his professionalism and Charles dismissing his imperative to always be master of his emotions, and meet in the middle. 

“Are you alright? What did he do?” demands Erik, hands everywhere on Charles he’s denied himself before.

“He tried… it doesn’t matter. There is only one pair of hands I want on me.” Charles is trying to climb inside Erik with a beseeching look from his turbulent and teary eyes. He wants an answer. Erik kisses him. Their noses and lips slot together perfectly, completely. Erik’s blood is charging through him again; there is fire eating his spine, his limbs, his reason. He thinks vaguely that Charles tastes even better than he smells.

Charles has all but liquefied against him, but is still rough where Erik is reverent, moaning and murmuring where Erik remains mute. 

“I thought so,” says Charles, into Erik’s ear, “I thought it was meant to be you and me in every way.” And Erik finally hears devotion in the tone he always thought was tolerance.

“I thought… I didn’t know,” says Erik, “and anyway, how can we?” His voice is doubtful but his thumb is rubbing possessively along Charles’ chin and he has the other large hand fanned and determinedly pressed on Charles’ back, holding his master and friend as close as they can be with clothes on.

“We’ll come up with something, I’m very clever, you know.”

Erik rolls his eyes. 

“Besides,” says Charles slyly, “if you think I’d let you go after that, you are not as intelligent as I’ve always said. I’ve been thinking about that for a long time.”

“Is that right?” said Erik, “and what else have you been thinking about?”

Charles hums and pushes Erik back toward the bed, “I can show you. But you’ll have to do your job and help me undress.” 

And Erik says, “Right away, Master Charles.” He performs his duties thoroughly.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you don't think I butchered your story, Kage!


End file.
